


A Boy and His Dragons

by Medie



Category: Temeraire - Naomi Novik, The Losers (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Background Slash, Community: ante_up_losers, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-18
Updated: 2012-01-18
Packaged: 2017-10-29 18:30:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/322848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's one surefire way, just one (and by one, we mean many, but one specific way in this particular instance), to drive Jensen to distraction. One way to pull him away from his computers and make him forget everything around him.</p><p>Dragons. Give him dragons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Boy and His Dragons

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kisahawklin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kisahawklin/gifts).



Jensen's quiet. Cougar doesn't look, but he doesn't have to, he'll know what he'll find. Jensen tipped back on his heels, sunglasses pushed back on his head, eyes trained on the sky and watching the shadows wheeling about overhead.

There's one surefire way, just one (and by one, we mean many, but one specific way in this particular instance), to drive Jensen to distraction. One way to pull him away from his computers and make him forget everything around him.

Dragons. Give him dragons.

One of the dragons roars and, beside him, Roque flinches. "Hate those fuckers," he mutters.

Cougar says nothing, but he grins. Bad move.

" _Hate_?" Jensen echoes, disbelief in his voice, "You--how? They're _dragons_ Roque, how do you hate _dragons_? Come on, dude, they're _dragons_?"

Cougar starts cleaning his gun, keeping his head tipped to hide the ever-widening smirk as Jensen revs up.

"It's like impossible to hate dragons. Every kid grows up wanting to join the dragon corps. You know how many times _I_ tried?" Jensen looks up, Cougar doing the same, as one dragon dips lower than the others and lets loose a blast of flames that sends the others scattering. "That is so fucking cool."

Cougar nods. "Canadian."

"Right, right," Jensen bounces up, circles around the clearing they've made camp in, and presses against one of the trees. It's a better view, Cougar guesses, because his smile widens and he folds his arms to watch. "Saw the email, they let us borrow a couple firebreathers." The US having lost their only one (captain and crew aboard) in the Pacific. Cougar remembers the stories. WWII and its weapons advances had done a lot of damage to the world's dragon population. Newfoundland and the other breeding nations were working on rebuilding, but that took time. Time and dragons willing to fight. Not all of them did. "God, they are awesome."

Cougar's hands move, disassembling the gun by rote. "Still hate 'em," Roque says, and they're both grinning. "Creepy fuckers."

Behind them, Clay sighs and folds his arms tight. " _Roque_."

"They aren't creepy!" Jensen says, dropping down again. "They're gorgeous." He reaches for his computer, tugging it onto his lap, to check the latest feeds on the fight overhead. Probably checking his feeds on all the dragons. He's got them coming in from everywhere and anywhere there's dragons on the move.

He checks them when he can't sleep. Cougar's sat up with him some nights, Jensen's head on his shoulder, the two of them watching dragons dance and weave over the practice grounds. Beautiful.

They hear the sound of a helicopter, the local general's men, and everyone looks up.

"Stupid mistake," Roque says when the chopper comes into view.

"Goddamn moron," Pooch agrees.

Everybody knows the air belongs to the dragons. Helicopters or fighter jets, it doesn't matter, the end result is still the same. The dragons scatter when the helicopter opens fire, avoiding the shots with the grace of acrobats, then turn to fight.

One dragon roars, the sound enough to shake the trees, and their Canadian firebreather unleashes a massive flame. To the men watching below it looks as though the sky catches fire, waves and waves of orange flame licking through the air, and to the men in the chopper it might as well have.

The explosion isn't quite as loud as the first dragon's roar, but it is enough to send everyone who isn't Jensen running for cover. He sits there, against his tree, watching the fight continue.

The dragons direct their attention to the men on the ground; their captains following the markers that the team has laid out for them.

It's over quick. The general and his men no match for a half dozen dragons.

"Told you," Roque says as they venture back out from cover. One of the dragons, one of the firebreathers, swoops in and settles before them, flattening a few trees with the landing. The crew immediately scrambles off, checking it over, as the captain—a tall woman—dismounts to speak with Clay. "Creepy fuckers."

"Fuck off, Roque," Jensen says, grinning like a six year old. "This is _cool_." He looks at Cougar, "Think they'd give us a ride?"

Cougar looks at the captain and Clay, shrugs, and gets up to ask.


End file.
